


Princess Tutu

by Fairia



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, F/M, Soulmate-Identifying Marks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-22
Updated: 2019-09-22
Packaged: 2020-10-26 03:31:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,387
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20735540
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fairia/pseuds/Fairia
Summary: It was pretty much a guarantee that Keith would never have the chance to impress his soulmate with how cool and suave he was, if the words on his wrist were any indication.





	Princess Tutu

**Author's Note:**

> This story has art! Go visit https://luce-ciel.tumblr.com/post/187839690638/for-aknazer-thank-you-for-writing-that-cute#notes to see the amazing picture of Keith that LuceCiel drew!

Like most embarrassing things that had happened to Keith in his life, his current predicament was _all Lance’s fault._

Losing his swim trunks at the beach and getting arrested for public indecency? Lance’s fault. 

Having to give an important presentation with the faded-out remains of a sharpie penis on his cheek? Also Lance’s fault. (Even if he would argue that _Keith_ was the one who fell asleep first.)

Having photos of Keith in makeup shown at every family gathering since ever? Well, Keith would blame Veronica for giving the pictures to Shiro, but really, Lance had talked him into practicing the Halloween zombie makeup that mysteriously looked _exactly_ like smokey eyes. (“The red lipstick was supposed to be _blood,_ Keith!”)

Getting caught hunting cryptids at three a.m. and having the cops call his mom to come get him from the local precinct? ...Well, okay, that one was on Keith, but Lance had been the one who insisted that cryptids weren’t real.

But this? Completely, totally, 100% all Lance’s fault, and worse? The bastard was loving it, unabashedly following Keith around to laugh at his mortification, though he’d had to split off for class earlier on. They were going to meet back up later for dinner, to “finish the day right” — but Lance was paying, so Keith could at least stomach the humiliation. 

Not for the first time, Keith promised himself he would never drink with Lance again. Shiro would argue that they got into plenty of stupid bets without the aid of alcohol, but Keith was pretty sure that the consequences of those bets got worse with alcohol (and Shiro’s) influence.

After an uncertain series of events involving far too much liquor to be healthy, Keith and Lance had determined that the loser of the karaoke competition had to wear Veronica’s ballerina costume from last Halloween for the full day—sunrise to sunset. And because Shiro was a freaking _shit stirrer,_ the “fairy princess” getup from the dollar store had been added. Hunk had thrown out the idea that the bar would decide who the winner was, and drunk Keith had thought that made sense and was totally fair.

Except Keith couldn’t sing — a fact nobody had bothered to remind his inebriated self of before he’d agreed to Lance’s ridiculous challenge. So Lance (who could actually carry a tune, and thus did not sound like a dying cat) had won by a landslide, and had gleefully hauled a bleary-eyed Keith out of bed at the ass-crack of dawn with a glittery pale pink tutu and a shit-eating grin.

Keith couldn’t even argue with it, because the entire unfortunate incident had been caught on video. Thus, Keith was stomping down the road, resolutely ignoring the stares and laughs as he walked down the sidewalk in a sparkly, pink, adult-sized tutu. Complete with fairy wings, a jeweled plastic tiara, and a light-up star wand, because Lance was a little shit like that.

Far from allowing Keith to spend his day of shame hiding in their apartment, Keith had already been forced to go to the coffee shop that Hunk worked at, attend class, and go pick up ingredients for dinner at the grocery store. His only consolation was the knowledge that, sooner or later, this stunt would come back to bite Lance in the ass, and _he_ would be the one wearing the tutu. (Keith resolutely ignored the voice in his head that said Lance would not only agree to wear the tutu, but he would _rock it,_ because Lance? Had no shame. Ever.)

_“Aw, come on man,”_ Lance had teased him, _“maybe this will be how you meet your soulmate!”_

_“Yes,”_ Keith deadpanned. _“Absolutely. Because I want to meet my soulmate dressed as a freaking fairy.”_

_“Ballerina princess fairy, get it right,”_ Lance sniffed haughtily. 

It was almost guaranteed that his soul mate would know him (or of him) before they ever met. The words on his wrist certainly seemed to think so; _I’ve been waiting a long time to hear this story_ was inked in precise green writing on the inside of his forearm as a constant reminder that he would never have the chance to impress his soul mate with how cool and suave he was. Having been best friends with Lance since Kindergarten, Keith could only wonder _which_ cringe-worthy story it was they had heard (or, would hear). 

Sighing, Keith turned and opened the door to his brother’s favorite diner. His next “errand” was to take Shiro and his friend Matt their lunches. The man behind the counter stared at him.

“I’m here to pick up an order for Shirogane?” Keith gritted out, baring his teeth in what he hoped passed as a smile. 

The man behind the counter was still staring, but managed to stammer out “Oh...um, yeah. Yeah, sure, Shirogane, got it right back, uh, here…”

He shuffled a bit before blinking forcibly and turning away from Keith, grabbing a brown paper bag and hauling to the counter. Keith gritted his teeth, resisting the urge to smack the server with his wand as he checked the order and handed over the cash. Gathering his change, he bid the man a strained “good day” and booked it down the block to Altea Industries.

Altea Industries was a very pretentious name for a small building, but Keith knew it was just a branch office for the larger parent division that handled a very specialized R&D lab for robotics and AI development for oceanographers and astronauts. Shiro had already texted him that he would meet him up front, so Keith didn’t have to worry about standing on the internal phone and trying to get a hold of someone in the vault to send Shiro out.

True to his word, Shiro was waiting inside the lobby, leaning back against the unmanned front desk next to Matt as they chatted. 

“Holy crap!” Shiro laughed as Keith swung through the door. “I can’t believe you actually did it!” 

“Shuddup,” Keith huffed, shoving the bag at his brother. “I am never drinking with you assholes again.”

“You say that every time,” Shiro reminded him good-naturedly.

“Yeah, well I mean it this time,” Keith huffed his bangs out of his eyes. “This is beyond embarrassing—I’m pretty sure I’m going to make the local news somehow.”

“It wouldn’t be the first time,” Shiro pointed out reasonably, digging around in the paper bag. “Remember when—” 

“Yes,” Keith cut him off, not wishing to relive that tale again. 

“Hey, Matt, looks like they…” Shiro turned, pausing in the process of holding out a container as he stared at his coworker. Matt continued to stare at Keith.

“Uh, Matt?” Shiro nudged him with the styrofoam container. “You okay buddy?”

“Um, yeah.” Matt shook himself. “I’m...great. I’m good. Hey, Keith?”

“Yes?” Keith raised his eyebrow at the other man’s uncharacteristic hesitance. He’d met Matt a few times in the past, and the younger man had always come across as outgoing and relaxed, if a bit sarcastic and mischievous. If there had been one person Keith thought wouldn’t be fazed by the sight of a grownup in a tutu (besides Hunk), it would have been Matt Holt. 

Clearly, that was not the case.

“This is going to sound weird, but I really need you to do me a favor.” Matt pulled out his wallet. “Can you please take my sister lunch? She works at Empire Comics on 34th street.”

“Seriously?” Keith frowned. 

“Yeah. Seriously.” Matt thrust a crumpled twenty into his hand. “Just grab her a number two with cherry pepsi—no ice—and take it to her at work. She forgot her lunch at home today, so I know she’d appreciate it.”

“What, so your sister can laugh at me too?” Keith asked sourly. “I’m kind of just wanting to go home.”

Matt blinked, then snorted ruefully. “Man, she works in a _comic shop._ You should see the people who come in there—a dude in a tutu won’t even faze her. Promise,” he added at Keith’s continued hesitance. “And if she says anything, remind her that she still believes in Big Foot.”

“Alright,” Keith said reluctantly, taking the money. “But I’m keeping the change.”

“Right on.” Matt nodded, stepping back. “Thanks, though. It means a lot.”

“Oh...kay.” Keith nodded to his brother and turned to go. He could hear Matt asking Shiro “So, why is he wearing a tutu, anyway?” just as the door closed behind him.

Ignoring the stares, Keith marched back to the deli, ordered a meatball sub with a cherry pepsi (no ice) and made his way towards 34th street and Empire Comics. 

He was familiar with the store, of course, since it was the local hotspot for everyone ten years and older. Despite the name, Empire Comics sold more than just comics—it was basically a nerd mecca, with the first floor selling comics, music and geek paraphernalia and a second floor devoted to gaming. Spaces could be rented by groups, and tournaments were held regularly. There was even a small coffee shop, but the selection was limited. As Keith wandered in the door, he privately wondered how he was going to find Katie. Unless she was just sitting at the counter, he was going to have the search the building to locate her. 

On the flip side, Matt had been absolutely correct: nobody even twitched at a man dressed in a tutu wandering through the store. Well, there might have been a few raised eyebrows, Keith corrected himself, but nobody stared. Or even looked really surprised. It made it marginally easier to wander the aisles, paper bag and waxed paper cup in hand, where the front clerk had assured him Katie Holt was lurking and stocking merchandise.

_“And I really do mean lurking,”_ the bored-looking boy had warned him. _“She likes to jump-scare people, so don’t drop the soda, okay?”_

Duly warned and clutching the cup tightly, Keith turned down a random row and drew up short as he nearly crashed into someone.

Short, was the first thing he noticed. The girl in front of him was petite enough to be mistaken for a child, if not for the faint curve of her breast underneath her layered green and white tank tops. 

_‘Matt?’_ was his first coherent thought. If Shiro’s coworker were a female, Keith thought he would look something like this. It was more than the light brown hair, which had been pulled into a careless ponytail, or the too-long bangs framing inquisitive amber eyes. It was in the jawline, the sharp chin and high cheekbones, and in the way her eyes flicked over him before her eyebrow twitched up, a mischievous smirk curling her lips.

“I don’t always wear a tutu, I swear!” He blurted out, then cringed as he felt heat crawl up his cheeks. _‘Way to go, Kogane,’_ he congratulated himself. _‘Great first impression.’_

Maybe he was mistaken, maybe this wasn’t Matt’s sister, and he wouldn’t hear about his verbal fumble from now until the end of forever. 

Unholy amusement lit her gaze, her smirk widening as she tapped the spine of a robotics magazine against the rim of her round, wire-framed glasses. Resolutely, Keith dropped his gaze, taking in the red Empire Comics lanyard with the employee keycard and ‘Katie’ scrawled on it.

Nope, he thought wildly. This was Matt’s sister, and he was going to hear about this every time he got drunk with Matt for the rest of his life.

“I’ve been waiting a long time to hear this story,” Katie laughed.

Keith froze, wrenching his gaze from her bright orange belt (orange, green and white? What was she, a ninja turtle fan?) back up to meet her eyes.

“You’re…” He breathed. “I mean, um, hi. Katie.”

“Seeing as we’re soulmates and all, I guess you can call me Pidge.” Pidge grinned at him, reaching out to slip the soda out of lax fingers and sticking the straw in her mouth. She stretched out the arm still holding the magazine, showing him _I don’t always wear a tutu, I swear_ inked down her forearm in his own untidy scrawl. 

Keith cringed. “Seriously? Kill me now.”

“Not a chance,” Pidge quipped, pulling the straw out of her mouth and using the cup to gesture to his outfit. “I really _have_ been waiting a long time to hear this story.”

Bonus:  
Pidge leaned against the endcap, grinning as Keith left, wondering if contributing to her brother’s secret Sailor Moon addiction was a big enough ‘thank you’ for sending her soulmate her way, when Nate sidled up to her.

“Friend of yours?” he asked.

Pidge shrugged. Nate was clearly fishing for information. “Not yet.”

Which was true—despite the hour they’d spent together getting to know each other while Pidge ate her lunch, they weren’t friends...yet. But Keith was kind and sarcastic and just awkward enough to be adorable, so she had no doubt they would be before long. 

“He brought you lunch,” Nate observed.

“Sure did,” Pidge agreed, sticking her straw in her mouth. She rolled her eyes a little as she recelled Matt had told Keith to order her a _meatball sub_ to eat in front of her soulmate. Men! For one, messy (great first impression!) and for two...uh, subtext much, Matt? Pidge wasn’t sure if it was a sexual subtext (watch me fit these balls in my mouth) or a scary subtext (I will ruthlessly eat these balls...with my teeth!) but there was _some_ kind of subtext going on, and it was her brother’s fault.

“So, uh...what’s with the outfit?” Nate asked.

Pidge sniggered. “He lost a bet.”

“And got stuck in a too-small pink spandex tutu?” Nate looked amused. They took a moment to watch as Keith bounced on his toes while he waited for the crosswalk light, before bending over to reach for his toes. “I mean, not that I’m complaining.”

“Me neither.” Pidge eyed the way the back of the tutu rode up to expose his underwear, and the neat vertical line his calf muscles made as they tensed. His quads, she’d seen, were equally impressive. No, she wasn’t complaining at all, though she suspected Keith would be when he discovered he was in her phone book as “Princess Tutu.”


End file.
